


Toothpaste & Aftershave

by fishpoets



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Morning Routines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 05:25:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11284599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishpoets/pseuds/fishpoets
Summary: Bathrooms in the Watchpoint dorms are tiny, but they manage.(Written for day 6 of mchanzo week: First Date | Domestic Life)





	Toothpaste & Aftershave

 

Jesse is still asleep when Hanzo gets back to their room, snoring as he lies on his stomach with one arm shoved under his pillow. He's moved since Hanzo left him, rolled over into the warmth of Hanzo's abandoned space on the bed. One of his feet is sticking out from under the covers. Its bare sole is begging for a tickle, but Hanzo generously refrains. Jesse needs the rest.

 

As quietly as he can Hanzo peels out of his sweat-soaked running clothes and drops them into the laundry hamper. Jesse grunts and shifts as he eases open the squeaky bathroom door, but does not wake. Hanzo lets out a breath and slides the door shut behind him.

 

Hanzo is only an early riser because of years of trained routine and discipline. Of the two of them, Jesse is the natural lark, waking easily with the sun wherever he is in the world. The only reason he isn't awake yet today is because he returned from a mission late last night, so tired that Hanzo had to help untangle him from his clothes and get him into bed.

 

Sure enough, as if summoned by his thoughts, Jesse wanders into the bathroom only a minute after Hanzo's finished his shower, yawning and scratching his hairy belly.

 

“Mornin',” he rumbles, leaning in to kiss Hanzo's cheek. “'Scuse me, darlin'.”

 

“Good morning.” Hanzo lets him squeeze past in the tiny space so he can get to the toilet. He finishes trimming his eyebrows in the mirror as Jesse relieves himself and pushes the flush. “Did you sleep well?”

 

“Like a log.” Jesse reaches around him to wash his hands, then grabs his toothbrush and paste from the cup on the shelf. “And y'self?”

 

“Mm-hm.” Scrutinising his reflection, Hanzo decides he needs a shave. The sharp edges of his beard are starting to become smudged and blurred with stubble. He nudges Jesse aside with his hip. “Move over. You don't need the mirror to brush your teeth.”

 

Mouth full of foam, Jesse makes a sleepy, wordless noise of assent and shuffles across, leaning against the wall. Hanzo crouches to open the cupboard under the sink for his razor and cream. While he's there he presses a kiss of thanks to Jesse's thigh – has to resist the desire to linger, to run his lips higher. Jesse is full of temptations, especially as he is now, naked and warm, soft and musky with the scent of their bed. So _very_ tempting. But sadly, Hanzo has no time to indulge.

 

They stand side-by-side in comfortable silence, elbows knocking as Jesse scrubs his teeth and Hanzo lathers up his cheeks and jaw and under his chin. He flicks opens his straight razor and draws the blade smoothly along his skin.

 

Jesse ducks under Hanzo's arm to spit into the sink and rinse out his mouth. He takes a mouthful of water right from the faucet then shifts out of the way, leans his head back and gargles. Loudly. When their eyes meet in the mirror he sends Hanzo a cheeky wink then twists around to spit again, this time into the shower drain. Wiping his mouth on his bare arm he slides up behind Hanzo again, resting his hands on the sink on either side of Hanzo's hips, and watches with a fond smile as Hanzo finishes shaving. He waits for Hanzo to wipe off his razor and put it aside, but no longer. As soon as Hanzo's hands are free of sharp objects Jesse's arms wrap around him. The metal hand reaches up to his chin, tilting it back as Jesse bends to meet his lips.

 

They kiss slowly. Hanzo rubs his hands over Jesse's thick forearms as their tongues twine, enjoying the stretch in his throat from the steep angle and the scratch of Jesse's wiry bodyhair against his bare skin. Jesse's lips migrate to his cheek, slide down to his jaw – then he pulls back, spluttering.

 

“ _Yeurgh._ ” He grimaces, tongue lolling from his mouth. “Ick, shaving cream. Not good.”

 

Hanzo snorts. He washes off his face and pats it dry with a towel. “Perhaps this will teach you a lesson in patience,” he says as he applies his aftershave.

 

“Doubt it.” Jesse's hands come back to rest on his hips, rubbing circles into the towel wrapped around his waist. He kisses the top of Hanzo's head. “You're too gorgeous to resist, baby. Can't help myself.”

 

The hands on Hanzo's hips edge inwards, fingertips slipping under the folds of the towel. Hanzo smacks them flat and holds them still.

 

“Jesse,” he warns.

 

“Mmm?”

 

He can feel him grinning into his damp hair. “I have no time for that.”

 

“Aw, come on.” Jesse's grin trails down to his neck, where he lays a wet kiss. “I can make it quick,” he murmurs, low into Hanzo's ear. “I know just how you like it. I'll make you feel _so good_ , and you'll still have plenty of time after to put yourself to rights, I promise.”

 

Hanzo shivers. Jesse's right, damn him – by now he knows exactly which of Hanzo's buttons to press, when, and in what order. But he also won't push if his advances are turned down.

 

“Not now,” Hanzo says, shaking his head. He drags Jesse's hands up to safer territory. “Save it for later.”

 

“Alright, alright.” Jesse rests his cheek on Hanzo's head and looks at him in the mirror. “You nervous, honey? You seem a bit tense.”

 

At the reminder the little ball of discontent in Hanzo's chest shakes itself off and huffs. “I am not looking forward to the mission today, I confess,” he says, twisting Jesse's arm hairs between his fingers.

 

“ _'Mission'_ ,” Jesse quotes, amused. “It's just some fundraising, darlin'. Ain't like it's gonna be dangerous. All you gotta do is talk to a rich guy for a couple hours and hope you walk out with more money than you came with.”

 

“I know it is important,” Hanzo reasons. “We cannot operate without money. And I understand why I have been asked to come. I am an experienced negotiator and businessman, after all.”

 

Jesse hums. “But..?” he prompts.

 

Hanzo sighs. “But nothing.” He's aware he's being nonsensical. Acquiring funds is vital work, even if it is rather boring – there's only so much Hana and Lúcio can offer from their own incomes, and Hanzo has already offered Winston all the Shimada money he still has access to. Recently Winston has been reaching out to potential benefactors; people still sympathetic to the ideal of Overwatch, the sorts who spend their spare millions funding scientific research and charitable causes. Hanzo should be proud he has been chosen to represent them. And he is. “It is nothing.”

 

Jesse turns him around in his arms and holds Hanzo's hands to his chest.

 

“You're gonna do great,” he promises. “You've got a good team to back you up. Tracer as your poster-girl, with all her enthusiasm and passion. Mercy for the humanitarian angle. You,” he kisses Hanzo's knuckles, “for the hard sell. And Winston's earnestness will soften the edges. All y'all know what you're doin'. It's gonna go fine, trust me.”

 

“Yes, I believe you. That... isn't exactly the problem.”

 

“Then what is, honey?”

 

Hanzo feels silly and sentimental admitting it, but he cannot pretend it doesn't matter to him. “I only wish it didn't have to happen today.”

 

Jesse's face softens in understanding.

 

“Yeah, I know how you feel. I've been looking forward to today too. But I guess it can't be helped.” He wraps his arms around Hanzo's waist and hooks his fingers together behind his back, holding him close. “It's not like you're gonna be gone ages. You should be back by tonight, right?”

 

“If all goes according to plan, yes.” Hanzo wrinkles his nose. “But I fear that may be a big 'if'.”

 

“Such a cynic.”

 

Hanzo tuts and pulls on his chest hair. “I prefer the term 'realist'. And do not pretend you are some idealistic dreamer with your head in the clouds; you are far too grounded for such things.”

 

“Ah, well, I'd argue I must be at least a bit of a dreamer,” Jesse says. “Rose-tinted, glass-half-full kinda thing, you know.”

 

“Oh? How so?”

 

“I think it can do a person good, tryin' for things you think are far beyond your reach, that seem impossible or too good to be true. If I didn't feel that way I never would've found the courage to flirt with you. Not seriously. And I probably wouldn't've answered the Recall.” He fixes Hanzo with a look. “Speaking of which, you must be a touch idealistic too, else you might never have shown up here at all, would you?”

 

“Hm.” Hanzo tilts his head, considering. “Perhaps you have a point.”

 

“Either way, however it happened, I'm glad we both ended up here.” Jesse rubs his hands into the dip of Hanzo's lower back. “You know,” he muses, “I don't think I've ever told you this, but this time last year? I was shittin' myself. I was so terrified.”

 

Hanzo frowns. “Why?”

 

Jesse shrugs. “It was our first date, wasn't it. I was half-sure you agreein' to go out with me in the first place was some sorta fluke, and I didn't want you to regret it. I wanted so damn bad to impress you, Hanzo, you have no idea. I felt like such a mess.” He chuckles ruefully. “Course, it ended up not mattering much about my plans, given that Talon attacked halfway through our dinner.”

 

The unexpected attack on Gibraltar had been frightening at the time – Hanzo had just been beginning to truly think of the Watchpoint as _home_ , the first he'd had in years, and the people here were becoming his friends, his family. He and Genji were healing. And Jesse... Jesse had been beautiful, dressed in his best jeans and shirt, with his wild beard trimmed down and his hair slicked back, obviously nervous and trying far too hard as they sat down for a romantic meal together on the roof. His uncharacteristic anxiety had been endearing – it had only made Hanzo feel more sure of his decision. Sure that he had stumbled upon something worth seeing through.

 

Suddenly being invaded, having it all threatened, had been upsetting on a deep, visceral level. Looking back on it now, though, with the knowledge that everyone survived and their home was unharmed…

 

Hanzo smiles, remembering. It had certainly been a memorable first date. For many reasons. “You had sauce in your beard for the entire fight.”

 

Jesse groans and covers his eyes with his palm. “Oh god, don't remind me.”

 

His misery makes Hanzo chuckle. “I suppose it is a good thing for you that I already found you impressive. Pasta-related mishaps did little to affect my opinion of you.”

 

Jesse peeks down at him from under his hand. “I'm a lucky guy.” His smile goes soft at the corners. “A year already, huh? Can't believe you've put up with me this long.”

 

“Yes, well.” Hanzo reaches up to stroke his beard. “It seems your positive attributes far outweigh your negative.”

 

“Aw, honey. You say the sweetest things.” Jesse nuzzles into his hand. “Listen, don't you worry 'bout a thing today. You just do what you gotta do. It won't take forever, and when you get back, there just might be a surprise waitin' for you.”

 

Hanzo blinks. “What sort of surprise?” he demands.

 

Jesse laughs. “Won't be a surprise if I tell you, will it?” He grins. “You'll just have to be _patient_ , sweetheart.”

 

Hanzo pinches his nipple and leans up on his toes to kiss the infuriating smirk off his face.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'd hoped to write something for every day of mchanzo week but this month has just been terrible so... this little thing will have to do ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> anyway hope y'all enjoyed ♥


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